


Creature of the Night

by 1lostone



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M, Rocky Horror Picture Show - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-26 23:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7593952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written awhile back for the Get_House_Laid challenge on Lj. The prompt was "Rocky Rocky Rah Rah Rah", and I went with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Creature of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bookfan85](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bookfan85).



> Repost from LJ from errrr 2008. Cleaned up a bit and reposted now that I found it again.

 

* * *

 

**Summer, 1989**

“I’m bored.” Gregory House took a sip of his coke, sat back, and belched.

“Nice. Don’t you have something doctor-y to do?” The man sitting near him on the couch was concentrating on his rolling papers, trying not to spill any of the bud out of the sides. He was hunched over the couch with his elbows on his knees, tongue poking out of the side of his mouth as he concentrated.

“I never have anything doctor-y to do. In fact, since I’m starting that new residency next week in the beautiful Garden State, I _really_ don’t have anything doctor-y to do. I’m booored,” House whined.

“You know, it’s not really my job to entertain you.”

House eyed him askance. He debated edging Crandall’s elbow off of his knee (just for the pure entertainment value) but it took him damn near forever to roll a joint. Everything had to be perfect, rolled tightly and compactly and perfectly symmetrical. If he bothered him now, they’d never get out of this damn apartment. “True. But if you didn’t want to entertain me, then why are you even here?”

Crandall looked over at him out of the corner of his eye, rolled his eyes heavenward then concentrated back on the task at hand.

House drank some more of his soda and stared morosely off into space. Thirty. Fucking _Thirty_ years old. High school, finished. Undergrad, MCATs, and doctor school- finished. Internship? Laughable. Boring. Hell, he sleepwalked through most of it. And here he was sitting with a person who was sorta a friend (but mostly not) watching him roll. It was pathetic. Actually, he did feel like he was back in high school. The feeling of being in someone’s crappy apartment, decorated with posters on the walls to cover water stains and holes, waiting while someone got high was … eerily familiar.

He sighed- a long _Huuuuhhhhhhhhhh_ , of sound, obnoxious and annoying.

Crandall finished (finally!) and meticulously put away his supplies. “Alright! Fine! We’ll go out. But I pick the place, and I don’t want one word of complaint from you. Not one. Or you can celebrate your birthday by yourself, like the sad little middle-aged man you are.”

House stretched his lanky form. “Who are you calling middle-aged? You’re only a few years younger than me.”

“Yeah, but look what I’ve done with those years. Now. Are you coming or not?”

House looked down at his jeans and t-shirt. Ah, well. So maybe he wouldn’t be picking up anyone tonight. But damn if he had to look at these walls for much longer he was going to go insane. He followed Crandall to the car, shaking his head at the way he patted his pockets for his wallet and keys. He really didn’t like this guy. House flashed back to a few years ago, He and Crandall’s girlfriend in the car, while Crandall was off getting them food. Best ten minutes he’d had. That girl had a mouth on her like a vac —

“So, do you mind if we eat later? The place I have planned for you kinda has a time thing.”

Jarred out of his thoughts, and feeling maybe the teeniest smidge of guilt at the guileless way Crandall met his eyes as the two slid into the car, House even dredged up a smile.

“Whatever you want. I’m the birthday boy- I make no decisions. So, we’re seeing a movie then?”

“Erm… sorta.”

“Which one? I saw great reviews for _Batman_.”

“Nah. Not _Batman_.”

House’s smidge of guilt left the building. He hated guessing games. Come to think of it, he hated surprises, too. “ _Do the Right Thing_? _Honey, I Shrunk the Kids_? That Rick Moranis is one funny guy.” Crandall rolled his eyes. You could almost touch the sarcasm.

“Nope.”

House raised an eyebrow. “ _Dead Poet’s Society_? I don’t think I want to look at a bunch of schoolboys running amok.”

“No, House. Just hush. You’ll see when we get there.” Crandall was starting to feel nervous. Sure, it wasn’t too hard to set up someone on their birthday, but House was such an odd one that you never knew what he would do- how he would react.

It didn’t take long; the theater was only a couple of miles away. The building was kind of run down, but you really couldn’t tell from the back. The back of a theater looks just like all the other backs of theaters…. Only this one was slightly different.

House got out of the car, trying to ignore the slight feeling of alarm. “I swear by all that’s holy if you’re taking me to go see _Ghostbusters II_ I am out of here.” He saw the long line of people standing at the back doors. There were too many shadows to see them clearly, but he could see that the line was pretty long.

“Okay, okay, so I’ve seen it twice already. But really, what the fuh---,“ there was a pause. House stopped short. “Is that guy wearing a leather corset? And _fish_ nets??”

 _Cha –Ching!_ Crandall grinned inwardly, but winced, reached out to grab House’s arm and hustled them into the line before he could do much more than gape at the way the other patron was dressed. House’s face looked somewhat like someone had just come up behind him and thwacked his head with a board. House stumbled a little and fell into the person standing in front of him, a tall guy dressed in some sort of trench coat.

House was slowly getting over his shock at noticing that no, it wasn’t just one guy dressed in drag- and not just any drag but lots of leather and lace drag- but that just about everyone in the audience was dressed in some sort of oddball costume. He turned his head to survey the rest of the crowd, who were loosely formed into a queue along the back of the building. The guy he had stumbled into turned back around to stare up at House.

“Is this your first time?” He asked.

House blinked as he looked at him. He was youngish, hard to tell exactly how old he was with the way he was bundled up in the shapeless coat. It was dark enough that he could just barely make out the fact that the guy had dark eyes, and that his face seemed to be all cheekbones, angles and shadows. There was a quick flash of white in the darkness as the younger man smiled.

“M-my first time?” House actually stuttered, reeling from the punch of seeing that smile.

“Yeah. Your first time. I know how you feel. My first time was only a couple of months ago; now I’m doing it just about every weekend. Lots of people are like that. Guys, girls, it doesn’t matter. We all just let it all hang out- no inhibitions- no worries about people judging you.” He flung out an arm. There was a flash of skin in the V of the coat, a pale of light in the darkish parking lot. 

House’s eyes had widened with just about every sentence. He turned to look at Crandall, who was having a hell of a time trying not to burst out laughing. It was so rare that someone could render House, Doctor Genius utterly gobsmacked.

“ _And now… for your viewing pleasure… Lips will commence in fifteen minutes.”_

House barely heard the announcer, hardly acknowledging that the queue had finally started to move.

The man in the coat followed House’s gaze to Crandall’s face, and back to House’s wide blue eyes. “Um. Sorry… I didn’t mean to startle you.” He held out a hand. “I’m James. And don’t worry. I promise you’ll have fun. This group is pretty gentle on virgins. At least they prepare you first… I mean who wants it to be uncomfortable your first time?”

Crandall was surprised that House was being such a good sport about being at the theater. He had half-expected the other man to either run screaming for the hills or to start in with the snarky comments. But no, he had just followed that James kid into the theater…like some demented Pied Piper. James had kept up a steady stream of chatter and had gotten the three of them situated in a fairly decent part of the auditorium. Crandall sat down and swung his backpack from his shoulder to down on the floor, and started to rummage through it.

House was looking around at all the …. different…. people crammed into seats like sardines in a can. Only these sardines looked… well. House lost the metaphor as a woman in short shorts, fishnet hose, a gold and black bustier and a cap of short, very red hair weaved her way through the crowd. When she bent over to speak into James’ ear a nipple popped out of the bustier. House’s eyes widened and he turned his gaze to his left, where Crandall was still rummaging in his knapsack.

“Shit… forgot the squirt gun.”

 _Squirt gun?_ At the thought, House had an epiphany. He was surprised Crandall didn’t comment on his “ah-ha” moment, it was so obvious. _Rocky Horror Picture Show_. He vaguely remembered people talking about it when he was in high school, but his father wouldn’t have stood for him going to the theater. When they got back to the States, it just didn’t seem all that appealing. But now…..

House opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, James leaned over and said something. His lips ghosted over the shell of House’s ear.

House shut his mouth, feeling foolish, trying to hide the shiver that crawled up his back.

“Hey. Look for me okay? Come backstage after the show and tell me what you thought.”

Again the quick, mischievous grin.

“Err- right. Sure.” House even tried a smile, not really certain of what he was agreeing to.

It was strange really. No one seemed to have popcorn or soda. The room was dominated by a huge screen, like a normal movie theater, but there was also some kind of cleared space in the front. House people watched some more, and began to realize that most of the… costumes… were repeats of maybe five or six characters. Well, possibly seven. He wasn’t sure what in the hell that guy with the purple hair and sunglasses was wearing, but he was pretty sure the ribbons dangling over the other man’s scrotum wasn’t normal.

House was staring after the man (he really couldn’t take his eyes off him) when the lights went out.

Everyone went immediately silent.

House swiveled his neck to the front of the theater, squinting to see any light. The EXIT signs weren’t even lit.

Someone near the back tittered nervously.

Then from the far left back of the theater….. “Lips. Lips. Lips.”

Other people took up the chant.

“Lips…. _Lips_ … _LIPS_ …. **LIPS** … **_LIPS_ ** …. “

House found himself yelling along with the rest of the crowd.

Then, as if everyone in the room had the same script… 

“LET THERE BE… LIPS!!!!”

About that time, he heard the Fox Studios introduction…. And the credits rolled.

 

* * *

 

 _“Michael Rennie was ill, the day the Earth stood still, but he told us where we stand.”_ Sang the Lips

 “ ON OUR FEET!” The audience roared.

  _“And Flash Gordon was there, in”_

 “ EDIBLE!” The audience hollered at the same time the Lips sang _, “-- silver underwear….”_

 “KINKY! “

“ _Claude Rains was the invisible man. Then something went wrong, for Faye Wray and King Kong, they got caught in a…”_

“SEXUAL”

_“--celluloid jam.”_

“YEAH JAM! “

_“Then at a deadly pace, it came from”_

“WHERE?”

_“--outer space. And this is how the message ran..._

“FREEZE! “ While the lips froze, the credits came up. House ‘s gaze darted over to Crandall who was hollering the script along with the rest of the audience. This strangeness that he had been shanghaied to, it was pretty damn crazy. House found himself singing the “Ohhhhh’s” with the background singers since he didn’t know the words- it just seemed very important that he participate with this insane group of people.

“ ANOTHER HELPING OF CURRY PLEASE!” Tim Curry’s name flashed on the screen.

“ SLUT!" Susan Sarandon. House’s grinned turned feral. How was Susan Sarandon a slut?

“ASSHOLE!” Barry Bostwick's name made House scrunch his eyebrows. He didn't remember who that was. 

“KISS ASS! “ Richard O’Brien's name was also unfamiliar. 

“ WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?” As Magenta? House frowned. 

“WHERE DO YOU GET YOUR POT?” House actually snorted at reading Columbia on the screen.

“UGH!” Peter Hinwood's name made people throw things at the screen.

“EDDIE EDDIE!” Meatloaf… well finally. A name House recognized.

“CHUCKIE GREY, HE'S OKAY, BUT HE'S GOT NO FUCKING NECK!” Charles Grey…who the hell was that? House shook his head, mystified. 

To his shock, some of the audience went up onto the stage. It was the strangest thing- to watch people dancing on stage and simultaneously seeing the movie on the big screen. He hadn’t known that people did this to the movie!

House watched, bemused as Brad (ASSHOLE!) and Janet (SLUT!) got engaged… then lost…. and found a mysterious yet strangely occupied castle. When everyone started to dance to the Time Warp, House found himself doing the same. It was infectious… ridiculous.

He was having a blast.

Crandall cut him a glance out of the corner of his eye, pleased at House’s participation and obvious enjoyment.

House watched, amused, as Dr. Frank-N-Furter began to unveil his creation.

_“Tonight! My unconventional conventionalists, you are to witness a new breakthrough in biochemical research and paradise is to be mine!..... Throw open the switches on the sonic oscillator and step up the reactor power input--”_

_“_ THREE!!"

"-- _three!!!"_

"MORE!"

_"--more!!!"_

_"_ TRIANGLES!!"

"-- _Points!!!”_

 “PUT YOUR HUMP INTO IT RIFF!”

  _“Oh Brad!”_ Janet cried, horrified.  _“It's all right Janet!”_ Brad assured her.

“HE'S WORKING SO HARD HE'S GOT STEAM COMING OUT OF HIS ASS! YELLOW MOONS, GREEN CLOVERS, BLUE DIAMONDS, AND PURPLE HORSESHOES!”

  _“Oh. **Rocky**!”_

House was watching, still grinning. It was hard to tear his gaze away from Tim Curry in pearls, but later, he would be thankful that he did. There was some grunting both on and off the big screen, and he saw….

Saw…..

Saw James, wrapped up in gauze….

For a moment, House thought his heart stopped. So that’s why he had on the trench coat, he thought, inanely. During “Rocky’s” entire song, and while Magenta and Columbia stripped him down to nothing but extremely short gold lamé shorts and gold boots, House had to remind himself that breathing was a good thing.

In the queue, James had seemed… kind. Nice…helpful. Like a boy scout. On stage, he strutted. He sang his heart out; he wiggled, shimmied, and danced. He had an affinity for black eye makeup. House had to sit down before he fell down. Desire rocked through him like a shot. He felt as though time was slowing; an eerie swirl of sound and sensation. It was like swimming in molasses. He couldn’t remember ever feeling such a surprising … _want._ Such need…

Then as if someone hit fast forward on the VCR- the rest of the show seemed to fly by.

Crandall, thank goodness, was completely oblivious to House’s shock. He seemed like he was too into the performance to realize that House’s enjoyment had stalled; that he was just sitting there with a curiously blank stare, bright eyes staring blindly off in the general direction of the screen.

When the lights came abruptly up, House mumbled something to Crandall about catching a ride home, and fairly sprinted to the front where the cast members were hugging and high-fiving each other. Well, sprinted as much as he could given that he was dodging people. He felt like a salmon swimming upriver.

Alright, moron. Get it together. He just invited you for the after party, not for a weekend of wild monkey sex, House told himself, frowning.

Pity.

James was still wearing the costume from his last performance. He looked completely comfortable in the black garter belt and stockings, the patent leather corset and makeup. He had toed off the stiletto heels though.

“Hi! I’m glad you came.” James’ voice was muffled as he wiped most of the white face paint off with a towel. It was a move that was well- practiced; he managed to remove everything except the mascara and eyeliner on his eyes. “How’d you like the show?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” House found himself saying, truthfully.

James wiggled out of the corset and unsnapped the garters. “Okay so I know this is a complete pick-up line, but they usually bring in pizza and beer after the show and we have a little party. Are you interested?” He turned a little, bending over to peel off his stockings.

House thought his tongue was going to fall out of his mouth.

“Er. Sure. Yeah, sounds like fun.” He tried to make his eyes stop staring. It wasn’t working. He wanted to bend down to adjust himself but didn’t want to be too obvious. House hated to flirt. He was horrible at it. A friend had once told him that watching him flirt was like watching a train about to derail from the tracks. He either came on too strongly, too intense for mild flirtation, or made the other person feel like a three-fingered troll.

But James…. Now that was _flirting_. House watched him pull some jeans up over his slim hips and wiggle into a t-shirt. James had carefully and subtly mentioned pick-up lines….

House would have said something along the lines of “Hey, your eyes twinkle like a cow’s ass. Wanna fuck?” James undressed and dressed almost gracefully, each movement fluid and sinuous. House just got dressed. He shook himself out of his thoughts before he started babbling poetic nonsense. 

“Okay then. Come on over and I’ll introduce you.” James grabbed his arm and maneuvered him over to where some of the other cast members were changing into more comfortable clothes. Well except for the man that played Dr. Frank. “That’s Brian,” James whispered, again letting his lips touch the outside shell of House’s ear. House wanted to whimper. “He’s such a drama queen. Been doing Frank for years, though.”

House swallowed, his throat clicking. He stopped James a little ways away from the others. He had to ask before he did something really stupid. “Look…. How old are you, anyway?” He wondered if it would be uncool for him to cross his fingers.

James smiled. A wholly different version of mischievousness. There was no subtlety in this smile. “Twenty.”

_Fucking A._

“Want to get out of here?”

* * *

 

They didn’t even make it out of the theater.

The lighting in the theater was such that after about twenty feet from the stage area they were swallowed up into blackness. The two were walking up the ramp towards the exit when James reached over to do that thing with House’s ear. House stopped walking and gripped James’ chin in his hands. Their mouths met, all of House’s frustration of the evening communicating itself in the movement of their lips over each other, the tangle of tongues and teeth.

James pulled himself away, breathing as if he had just run a mile. “Can’t… _here_ …” he gasped, grabbing House’s arm again. House overbalanced and the two fell against the chair in the theater. House bit back a moan as James’ fingernails scratched up from the waistband of his jeans up under his t-shirt. The pads of his fingers rucked up his shirt; House shivered as the cool air caused his nipples to pebble further into hard little points.

House had stumbled so that James was under him. He shook his head, determined not to lose control any more than he already had. He tilted his head just a little, changing the kiss from the kind strangers exchange to the kind that was guaranteed to melt the toes of his partner. Granted it had been awhile since he kissed anyone, but that wasn’t the kind of thing you forget. He brought his hand down over the younger man's ribs, smiling a little when he squirmed.

James broke away from the kiss, gasping a little. “Hey… wait… I. Uh, I don’t even know your name. And chairs were not meant to be sprawled on this way.”

House blinked. It was dark enough that he couldn’t read the nuances in the other man's face. But, he didn’t sound disgusted… just kind of amused.

“Oh… kay. I’m Greg.” He got his arms up under him and did kind of a pushup move, one that caused his lower body to grind against James’ pelvis, before standing up. He grinned when he heard the sharp intake of the younger man's breath.

“Jimmy. Or James. Oh, wait I told you that.” House appreciated the breathless quality in James...no… _Jimmy’s_ voice. “There’s a.. a booth thing for the spotlight and projector we can go to. There’s more… privacy.”

Privacy was good.

Jimmy caught House’s hand and led the way up the dark footpath to some steps. He ran up them, Greg right behind him. James turned a little in the doorway, but House was already moving into him. They kissed again, House walking Jimmy backward. There was a little light from a small lamp that allowed the projectionist to see the controls. It cast an eerie glow over the room. There was a small loveseat towards the back.

That would work.

House kicked the door shut behind him and continued his onslaught on James… no _Jimmy_ ’s mouth. His skin tasted salty, and a little metallic from some of the makeup he had been wearing. He made a mewling noise when House play-bit his Adam’s apple, then drew his tongue and the light scrape of teeth over the pulse-point in his neck. Jimmy’s head had fallen back, his hand tightening on House’s shoulders. When House bit him, then sucked the sensitized flesh up enough to mark him, Jimmy’s legs collapsed. He fell back on the couch, sprawled there. 

House wasn’t sure what had made him so possessive with a relative stranger, but enjoyed the way he laid there, shirt baring that amazing stomach, his lips all kiss-swollen, the marks on his skin dark bruises in the off-color light. His eyes were dark, the smudged leftover makeup making them seem all pupil. “Yeah, so… I don’t suppose you brought anything?” Jimmy’s voice was shaky, rough. The glow of the light caused long shadows on his face, again making his cheekbones seem even more pronounced.

Brought anything? Brought what, a camera? A spotter? A….oh. of course. House shook his head, thinking ruefully of the one condom he had thrown away from his wallet, a holdover from his undergrad days. He _really_ needed to get out more.

Then Jimmy was sitting up, unbuttoning House’s jeans and shoving them down. It was his turn to cry out as he felt the heat of his mouth surround him.

“Aaaaahhhh---Fuh… uuuck.”

Jesus, this kid could suck cock. House lost time again, his brain not cataloguing each lick, each time the head of him bumped against the back of Jimmy’s throat, each way he would suck and run his tongue against the bottom vein, the light scrape of teeth when he would bob back up. He just registered pleasure. House’s hands were gripped in the longish hair, guiding him or pulling him closer, moving his hips hard enough to want to just keep thrusting...

…dimly, he registered the fact that he was about to come and pulled away. Looking down, he saw the line of precome and spit that connected the tip of his cock to Jimmy’s lips. The sight caused him to shiver. He had something running through his brain about safe sex and not using a condom, but he honestly didn't care. It had been so _long..._

“But.. I want to….” Jimmy protested and started to move forward. House hauled him up by his t-shirt and kissed him again, hard. He could taste himself.

His hands attacked Jimmy’s own jeans, pulling them down, snapping the ridiculous piece of G-string that was the last part of his costume Jimmy was wearing. House had James's own cock in his hands, bent down just long enough to get it wet with his mouth, going down only a couple of times. He wanted to touch him, wanted to feel both of them together.

Jimmy made another low sound of protest has House pushed him roughly back onto the loveseat, falling besides him. He moved so that he could grip both of them in one hand. Jimmy licked his own hand and reached down so that his hand was on top of House’s.

Their eyes met briefly, communicating both urgency and amusement at the situation they found themselves in. They both started to move their closed fists, kissing again, tongues and breath mingling.

They were both moaning now, finding the rhythm of their hands together. Jimmy switched his grip just a little, bringing both heads closer together. They were wet enough that the friction was incredible, a sort of wet heat that seemed to spread out to envelop them in the sounds of heavy breathing and sweaty sex.

House nipped Jimmy’s bottom lip, the slight burst of pain on the over-sensitized skin causing the younger man to come first. Jimmy faltered in the rhythm, but picked it back up as House kissed down his neck again. The extra slickness allowed him to move his hand even faster; House felt his own orgasm start and he buried his head in the crook of Jimmy’s neck and shoulder.

There was no other sound in the room as the two got their breathing under control. It was kind of awkward, the way they were sprawled against each other. House raised his head and smiled at the sight of a blissed-out Jimmy with one arm thrown over his eyes. He almost looked like he was going to fall asleep.

He moved away, wiped his sticky hand on his t-shirt, pulled up his clothes, rearranging himself so he didn’t look like he has just spent the last ten minutes having sex.

“Hey.” Jimmy opened one eye, and focused up on him. “Do you still want to hit that after-party?”

House hated this part. He always felt so moronic, trying to come up with some socially acceptable excuse for why he really didn’t want to spend any more time than he had to with whomever it was he had just screwed. This was why he didn’t do relationships. 

“Not really. I should be going back. I sort of ditched my friend. I should make sure he made it back to the apartment okay.”

“Oh.” Jimmy couldn’t help the slight forlorn note to his voice. He sat up and started to redress himself.

 The awkwardness seemed to be an almost palpable thing, sharing space in the room.

_Now what?_

Jimmy stood up so that he was in front of House. He reached over and gave him a kind of a clumsy hug. “Hey, I’m glad you enjoyed the show. And next time you won’t be a virgin.”

House tried not to notice the way Jimmy blushed at the word “virgin”. “Right. No worries there. So, well, maybe I’ll see you around or something.” Doubtful, since he was moving to New Jersey in a few days. But he had to say _something_. He felt like a shit. But there would be no point to dragging him back to his apartment. It would just prolong the inevitable.

Jimmy kind of smiled. “Maybe. Well…bye.” He gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and then turned, leaving the room and jogging down the steps. The door shut behind him. 

House ran a hand through his hair, body still loose and tingly from coming. “Bye,” he whispered to the empty room.

 

* * *

 

**Fall, 1995**

 

“And this,” said the balding hospital Administrator, gesturing in towards the man lounging against conference room windows, who was tossing a bright orange tennis ball against the ceiling tiles so that each _thwap_ hit a different tile, “is Princeton-Plainsboro’s very own Dr. Gregory House, Department Chair of Diagnostic Medicine.”

House ignored the overdone introduction Dr. Smithson gave him. Everything he did lately was overdone. The man was retiring after twenty years at PPTH’s chief Administrator; he went around in a state of almost perpetual giddiness, like a kid ready to be out of school for the summer.

_Thwap._

The younger doctor came into the room, crossing over to hold out his hand to House. House caught the ball in his left hand, and was reaching out to shake hands (if he played nice with the other doctors, maybe before he left administrating for that great golf game in the sky, Smithson would approve the “therapeutic” foosball table in the lounge) when a flash of a smile…a _familiar_ smile caught his eye. House's brain catalogued several images-one after the other, like flipping through a digital camera. The same flash of smile and angled cheekbones in a dark parking lot. The first view of Jimmy owning the little stage, singing his heart out. A glimpse of need in his mascara-smudged eyes as they kissed. The look of rejection when he turned away. 

“This is Doctor James Wilson, in oncology. I’m sure you’ll be working together frequently on various diagnostics.” 

The two men continued to shake hands woodenly, wary blue eyes locked onto shocked brown ones. House pulled back his hand, absently noticing a wedding ring on Dr. Wilson’s hand.

My. Things certainly have changed, he thought inanely.

“Nice to meet you.“ Dr. Wilson’s voice sounded a little hoarse.

House smiled, showing a lot of teeth. “I’m sure we’ll work together just fine. Isn’t that right… _Jimmy_?”

 

 

Fin.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I found a bunch of old emails from Bookfan85 after she passed away, and _finally_ found the end of this goofy story. Whoo! 
> 
> Protip- don't delete your fic when people are dicks to you, you'll regret it. ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> Err, sorry if my audience response is a bit out of date. It's been awhile!


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